


Twenty Sherlolly Prompts: The Big Idea

by MizJoely



Series: Twenty Sherlolly Prompts [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Sherlolly - Freeform, Teenlock, Warstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2161959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hooksandneedles-mag on tumblr said: okie dokie, I have a prompt. Teen!lock, John and Mary try to set them up on a date, pure fluffiness, the rest is up to you, maybe more plot *shrugs*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Sherlolly Prompts: The Big Idea

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so this is entirely from John Watson’s POV and has quite a bit of Warstan in it, but I hope you like it! Warnings for implied teenaged sex (Warstan) at the end

“Mary, this is the stupidest idea ever.”

“No it’s not, John, it’s brilliant and you know it. You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”

John Watson rolled his eyes and raked his fingers through his blonde hair as best he could considering he wore it militarily short in defiance of current fashion. “No, Mary,” he said patiently. “I’m not mad I didn’t think of it first, cos I never would’ve thought of it at all! Setting Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper up on a date? But not letting either of them know it’s a date? Really? How is that even remotely brilliant?”

“Because then they won’t be nervous about it,” his girlfriend of six months replied, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “And don’t tell me Sherlock wouldn’t be nervous, because we both know you’d be fibbing,” she added with another grin.

John, who had opened his mouth to voice just that objection, closed it in defeat. Mary was the sweetest, cutest girl he’d ever known and certainly the best thing that had ever happened to him in his seventeen years, but she was also really good at telling when people were lying…and very, very stubborn when she wanted something. And she wanted Sherlock and Molly to be together very, very badly.

To be honest, so did he. Sherlock was the most socially awkward person John had ever met…at least, he’d thought so until he met Molly Hooper. People called her Morbid Molly because she’d already decided she wanted to be a pathologist and talked enthusiastically about autopsies her father the doctor let her watch. And it did make John a bit queasy to watch how gleefully she cut into the frogs and rats they were given to dissect in biology…but he’d also caught Sherlock watching her with a great deal of admiration as she did so, wielding his own scalpel with quiet precision where she dug into the tiny corpses with enthusiasm and gusto.

And Molly watched Sherlock with equal admiration in chemistry class, where she and Mary were partners. The two of them had the ‘peeking when the other isn’t looking’ down pat, but neither one seemed to be willing to take a chance on doing more than peeking. John thought he should just tell Sherlock that Molly fancied him, but Mary objected, once again citing their friend’s nervousness – and Molly’s shyness – as barriers that would never allow the two of them to act on their obvious feelings.

Yeah, John concluded gloomily, Mary was probably right. Tricking the two of them into going on a date was probably the only way either one of them would even think about making a move on the other. But they’d be happier once they were together, that much he was sure of, and so he reluctantly agreed to help Mary with her scheme.

oOo

“Come on, Sherlock, it’s important. It’s my and Mary’s six-month anniversary, people celebrate things like that all the time. And she wants us all to go out to dinner, and you’re the only one that can get us a reservation and you know it. The owner still owes you for that favor you did him when you told him about his chef and the – ”

“Yes, John, I’m aware of how I helped him,” Sherlock interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Why can’t you just take Mary to the chip shop where we helped the owner put up the shelves instead? We won’t need reservations or to get dressed up, and he’ll give you extra portions of chips, he’ll remember you even if Henri at La Scallops won’t.”

“It’s L’Escallope,” John muttered. “And Mary wants to go _there_ , not to a chip shop we can go to any old time. To L’Escallope,” he added for good measure, knowing it was pointless to correct his friend. Sherlock had an amazing memory, but when it came to things he didn’t want to remember, he willfully deleted them from his mind. Or mangled them. He still wouldn’t call Greg Lestrade by his proper name, and all because the older boy had asked Molly out on a date once. At least, that was the reason John suspected, even if Sherlock refused to admit it. 

For Sherlock’s sake, John was glad that Mary had been informed by Molly that the date had ended with the two of them deciding it would be better if they were just friends…and now Greg was dating Sally Donovan, who’d broken up with Phil Anderson a few weeks ago when she caught him cheating, and…

John rubbed a hand over his face; Mary was right, he was a terrible gossip. At least he was keeping it all inside his own head instead of saying anything aloud. Sherlock would sneer and this conversation would go utterly to shit.

Not that it wasn’t headed that way already; Sherlock looked ready to stubbornly continue to refuse to help or to participate, when John remembered what Mary had so very carefully coached him to say for just such an eventuality. “Well, Molly will be disappointed,” he said, keeping his voice as casual as possible and shrugging his shoulders. He started to turn away as if in defeat when Sherlock’s voice stopped him.

“Molly? Molly Hooper is going?”

John nodded without turning around, in order to hide his satisfied grin. “Yeah, she’s Mary’s best friend so she wants her there as well. I know she’s said she’s always wanted to go there, but I guess it’ll have to wait until another guy asks her or something.”

“I’ll fix it. Tomorrow night, you said? No problem,” Sherlock said, the words spilling out of him rapidly. John risked a look, saw that the other boy had pulled out his mobile and was texting rapidly while he mumbled to himself under his breath. 

“Thanks, mate,” John said, not bothering to wait for an acknowledgement as he hurried off to let Mary know that part one of her plan had worked.

He only hoped part two would go as smoothly.

oOo

OK. Part two was in place: Mary was sitting at the white-cloth covered table, sipping a glass of water. She looked good enough to eat, in a gorgeous blue dress that matched her equally gorgeous eyes. She’d done up her shoulder-length hair in an elegant twisty-thing at the back of her neck, and her neckline was just the right amount of plungy to show off her, uh, blue-and-red beaded necklace, that was what he was looking at, of course it was…

“Nervous, John? Don’t want Mary to know you’ve been staring at her? I don’t see why not, you’ve been dating for six months and she must know by now how much you like looking at her t…”

“Sherlock!” John hissed and turned to face his friend, who’d snuck up behind him. Bastard. He felt his face flushing with a combination of fury and embarrassment at having been caught ogling Mary like some creeper. “Shut up, will you? I was just…admiring her dress,” he finished lamely, knowing it was pointless but unable to keep from trying to salvage his pride.

Sherlock’s smirk spoke volumes, even before he opened his mouth to say, “Oh yes, her _dress_ , of course. Stupid of me to think otherwise.” Without pausing for breath or in any way indicating a change of subject he continued, “Molly’s late. You told her 7:30, didn’t you? Why isn’t she here yet? Did you get the time wrong, John?”

 _Oho!_ John thought gleefully. Mary was not just right, she was completely, utterly, _stupendously_ right! Sherlock liked Molly as more than a friend. So Mary’s ‘stupid’ idea was just as brilliant as she’d insisted…and John couldn’t wait to show his appreciation for his girlfriend’s brilliance a bit later in the evening, when the two of them snuck off for their real anniversary celebration. A very, very private celebration that would involve him finally getting to use the condoms he’d filched from his dad’s dresser a few weeks back. Or so Mary had hinted during their last heavy-duty snogging session…

“Hi, sorry I’m late!” Molly’s cheerful voice brought him back to the present, and he turned to greet her while Sherlock just stood there and…stared. John sneaked a peek at his best mate; yup, he was staring all right. 

Not that John could blame him; normally Molly wore oversized cardigans over bright, cheerfully patterned blouses, blue jeans, and sneakers. Not tonight, not for L’Escallope. No, tonight, like Mary, Molly Hooper was wearing a gorgeous, form-fitting dress, although hers was some vaguely peach shade and the neckline was much more modest – boatneck, was it called? Sweetheart? Something John couldn’t for the life of him remember. She was also wearing a pair of strappy black open-toed sandals with heels that brought her height up at least a couple of inches and did fantastic things to her legs.

Molly’s eager smile faded as he and Sherlock continued to stare at her, until she self-consciously smoothed down imaginary wrinkles in her skirt and ducked her head so that her thick brown hair – freed from its habitual pony-tail – fell forward and hid her face. “Mary said I should wear it,” she mumbled. “I know it’s not very…”

“It’s amazing, it’s lovely, you’re lovely,” Sherlock interrupted, babbling out additional compliments while John turned his stare on his tall, lanky and decidedly unnerved friend. “John, tell Molly she’s lovely, she won’t believe me, she knows I’m rubbish at compliments, never get them to come out right but you’re good at it, you’ve had loads of practice…”

“Sherlock’s right, Molly, you look lovely,” John cut in before Sherlock could trip himself up any further. He smiled reassuringly as she peeked out from behind her hair, her cheeks a becoming pink but her forehead wrinkled anxiously. “We just were being idiots, yeah? Don’t mind us, let’s go join Mary, she’s waiting at the table.” He jutted out his arm, crooking his elbow; giggling, Molly tossed her hair over her shoulder and slipped her arm through his so he could escort her to the table. Sherlock followed, and John could feel his friend's scowl burning into the back of his neck with every step.

Mary smiled brightly as the three of them joined her, scooting her seat over a bit to make room. There was a small, silent tussle as John attempted to pull Molly’s chair out and Sherlock attempted to do the same; John quickly got out of the way as Mary tugged impatiently at his arm, leaving Sherlock to triumphantly assist Molly to her seat.

The waiter appeared within thirty seconds, deftly handing the menus around and murmuring something about wine choices. Sherlock waved him away with another scowl. “Henri knows we’re here,” he said in his snottiest voice. “There should already be a bottle of champagne chilling for us. Under the name of ‘Holmes’,” he added, looking down his nose at that nonplussed waiter.

“You didn’t have to be so horrible to him,” Mary said with a frown.

“Yes I did,” Sherlock announced. “He was going to take the champagne home and palm some cheap cut-rate crap on us because we’re just _kids_ ,” he sneered. 

“Come on, Sherlock, he was just…”

“His handkerchief was damp,” Sherlock said, talking rapidly over John’s attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction. “All the other tables in his area have been served, and none of them with anything chilled that would require being wiped off. This table was reserved and Henri would have told the waiter about the champagne, so his attempt to deflect us with the wine list was deliberate. And he’s stealing from the till as well; I’ll have to be sure and inform Henri his manager isn’t getting at better at vetting new employees.”

John huffed in annoyance; it figured Sherlock would find something awful to deduce to spoil the evening. Then he felt Mary nudging his leg under the table, and looked up to see that Molly was staring worshipfully at Sherlock. “That was brilliant,” she breathed, then looked over at John. “Is this how it is with you two all the time? When he takes you on cases?”

Sherlock was preening under her obvious adoration, and launched into a description of the way he’d assisted Henri, the owner, with the Case of the Shifty Chef, as John had named it in his blog. Molly listened, her eyes practically glowing, and Mary slipped out of her chair with a murmured excuse me and a request for John to assist her with something she’d forgotten in her car.

Neither Molly nor Sherlock did more than nod in identical distracted manners as John and Mary strolled away from the table, Mary stifling her giggles until they reached the door and slipped outside. “Oh, that’s done it; Molly loves reading about your adventures and hearing Sherlock tell her about them is just perfect!” she crowed, flinging her arms around John’s neck and kissing him enthusiastically.

He kissed her back just as enthusiastically, their friends quickly forgotten in his enjoyment of the moment. The sound of someone loudly – and disapprovingly – clearing their throat brought the moment to an end, and the two of them hurried over to Mary’s car. “So what’s next for this grand plan of yours?” John asked, leaning against the door. “I assume you just wanted to give them a few minutes alone…”

“Nope,” Mary replied with a wide grin. “We’re leaving. Hop in, Johnny boy; my parents have gone to Scotland for the week-end and you and I are going to have some long overdue alone time.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and John’s heart started hammering in his chest and his trousers suddenly felt way too tight.

“Uh, but what about my car?” he asked, looking down the row of vehicles for his – well, his sister Harriet’s – blue Mitsubishi.

“Sherlock filched your keys, didn’t you notice?” Mary asked. John grabbed his pocket; sure enough, no keys. “And Molly was dropped off by her father. Sherlock will offer her a ride home, and it’ll only take him about I’d say five seconds for him to deduce the real reason we left the two of them alone. So,” she continued as she slid behind the wheel and John took the front passenger seat, “I’d say it’ll take him about another five minutes after that deduction for him to text you and tell you what a prat you are.”

“For leaving him to pay the bill?” John guessed.

“No, silly, there won’t be any bill, you know that!” Mary exclaimed with a laugh as she put her Mini into reverse and smoothly exited the parking space. “This whole meal is comped. No, he’ll tell you you’re a prat for not warning him about my plans, of course!”

Before she began driving out of the parking lot, John pulled Mary close for a quick kiss. “You’re brilliant,” he pronounced as he settled back in his seat. “And if he doesn’t thank you for all this, then I’ll be sure to pound some sense into him.”

The next day, morning, as John cuddled with Mary and marveled over the glorious night they’d spent together, he heard her mobile signal an incoming text. Mary groped for her phone and flopped onto her back to read it. She laughed out loud, then handed it John when he gave her an inquiring look. 

_The date went well. You win; I like Molly and she likes me. We’re going to the science museum next weekend. SH_

A few seconds later John’s mobile chimed, and he read Sherlock’s second message with a red face. He tried to hide it from Mary, but she laughingly grabbed it out his hand and gleefully read aloud: “Hope you didn’t forget the condoms. Or where the clitoris is located, or else Mary is probably very disappointed right now.”

When Mary surrendered the phone to him, John typed in a rather earthy response while Mary read over his shoulder, still laughing. Then he tossed the phone onto the nightstand and took her into his arms, holding her tightly as he rather anxiously asked, “It was all right, wasn’t it, Mary?”

She kissed him, hard. “More than all right, sweetie,” she reassured him when the kiss ended. “You can reassure your git of a best friend that you know exactly how to make a girl happy.” With a devilish grin, she added, “Next time you see him, maybe you should offer him a few pointers, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely!” John enthused. Then Mary kissed him again and he happily forgot all about Sherlock bloody Holmes and his snarky sense of humor.

**Author's Note:**

> Do be sure to check out the comment ficlet addition at the end, courtesty of FanficCornerWriter19!


End file.
